Too Numb To Feel
by khaleesiofmischief
Summary: She is broken. She doesn't care, she doesn't feel. But there is someone who wants to see her again the way she used to be: innocent, whole and unharmed. He can't let her die inside.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

It's been almost a year since the Blackwater Battle. Sometimes he wonders why he didn't leave back then. There was fire everywhere, but he didn't hesitate. It was as if something or someone was giving him strength. And now he wants to give some strength to his little bird, for he knows that she has given up.

He enters her chamber uninvited. King Joffrey wants her to break her fast with him and his mother. Sandor doesn't know why. He is merely supposed to wake her, dress her if she refuses and take her to the King. He is a good dog.

He looks at her. She is lying on the bed, her back turned to him. A thin sheet is covering her only from the waist down. He can see all the bruises that cover her back and create a brutal painting on her porcelain skin. They are not of the same color. Some are old, others are recent. He wishes that none of them were there. She doesn't deserve them. She doesn't deserve any of this. Unfortunately, she will be beaten again and again. Pain and misery will be her constant companions…

He clears his throat rather loudly in order to wake her up. But she was awake when he entered, for she just looks at him, not at all surprised, and asks, "What does His Grace want?"

"He wants you to break your fast with him and the Queen", he announces.

"Could you turn around?" she whispers. Her voice sounds weak, the voice of someone dying. There is no emotion in her voice, no light in her blue eyes. She is beginning to become an empty shell. She is slowly dying inside.

He turns around, having nothing to say. Her movements are so soft that he can barely hear anything. He knows that if he looks at her right now, he will see her naked as her nameday. That thought makes him want to turn his head and admire the view. _You're sick_, he tells himself. _She's suffering and all you want to do is fuck her._

So, he stands there, trying to think of something else. He pictures the boy king dead, each time in a different way. Cut in half. Beheaded, his head on a spike. Pierced by a dozen arrows. Gutted. And, of course, burnt. He wants Joffrey to feel the way his dog felt when he was six years old. The fire licking his skin dangerously. The fire melting his face. The heat, the unbearable pain.

"Can you help me?" she asks in that same voice.

He turns around and sees her trying to lace her gown. He knows that her handmaids used to do that for her, but now the Queen has ordered them to come only every two days. He approaches her slowly, and she looks down. He probably looks like a predator approaching his prey. He has scared her. Again. He has fucked it up. Again.

With the gown unlaced, he can still see her bruises. From a closer view they look even worse, as if they will stain her perfect skin forever. He is tempted to touch her, barely stroke the hurt skin. However, he just laces her gown, as quickly as possible, and moves away before doing anything stupid, like comforting her in his arms.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

He loathes himself. He is so sick. At night, when he's alone in his room, just him and his hand, he thinks of her. He remembers her perfectly; how she used to be, how she grew to be, how she is now. But it is sick and wrong. She is still so young. And she would never want someone like him.

_She's not afraid of you anymore_, a little voice says.

_That's because she can't feel anything anymore_, he says.

_Ilyn Payne scared her more than you._

_Yes, but I scared her too._

_Yes, but she's not afraid to talk to you or to touch you._

He shouldn't be making this kind of thoughts. He shouldn't be thinking about her at all. She is a pretty little thing who will wed a beautiful lord and have his children. He is a broken man with hideous scars on his face. The only woman who would ever want him is a whore, and she wouldn't really want him but his coin.

This time she is already dressed when he enters her chamber. Two handmaids are inside, the one brushing Sansa's hair. She is standing while her handmaiden is taking care of her hair. This, Sandor knows, can't be a good sign.

"Leave us", she tells her handmaids, who leave without a word but with just a bow. Sansa sounds stronger, more determined now. Sandor doesn't know why, but he is glad.

The moment the handmaids leave, however, Sansa's face changes. She looks sad and in pain. And, once again, she looks like she's given up. That troubles Sandor more than he would like.

She approaches him, biting her lip. She has been beaten very badly, he realizes. He is quite certain that every step she takes makes her want to scream. He wishes she could lie on her bed all day, but King Joffrey requires her presence as he will spend his ay listening to people's needs. As if he gives a fuck about his people! The only person Joffrey cares about apart from himself is his mother, because he hides behind her skirts.

When she finally reaches him, she takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She looks at him and slowly asks, "Could you give me your arm?"

He looks at her, quite surprised. Sansa Stark of Winterfell wants to walk arm in arm with _him_. He wants that. He wants more than just that. He wants her. He wants to feel her, to touch her and kiss her everywhere. He wants to be her sworn shield.

"I can barely walk, so I need someone to support me", she explains as he hasn't spoken for quite some time.

"Is your beloved Joffrey so good at fucking that your knees buckle even now?" he mocks her and barks a laughter. Treating her like this pushes her away, so he is less tempted. No matter what he does, however, she always comes back to his thoughts.

"Fine", she says stubbornly and starts walking on her own. He just stands there, watching as she walks gracefully despite the pain…

…until she almost falls down. His arms are around her immediately. She feels so small and fragile in his arms. She needs protection. And he won't let her fall. Joffrey has broken the little bird's wings, so now she cannot fly. But he won't let her die. There is still some strength inside her. He first saw it when Joffrey decided to show her father's head to her. She told him that she hates him. She looked at the head and did not cry or scream. She is stronger and smarter than what the boy king thinks she is.

He slowly helps her stand on her feet. They're quite close. She smells like a rose. She is beautiful as a rose. And, like every rose, she has her thorns. But the look she is giving him shows no hatred. Her eyes are so intently focused on him that it seems they are looking for something. Is she trying to understand him? Does she want to know his secrets? He hopes that she will not see how he feels about her.

"What did he do to you this time?" he asks, stepping away from her and offering her his arm.

She takes his arm and looks better. It is as if he is giving her strength. He is surprised that he, a man who used to frighten her, can give her so much strength with a simple gesture. Or, maybe, it's just his imagination.

"It was Ser Merryn", she says. "He…he cut the back of my thighs and my inner thighs…"

He says nothing as they walk arm in arm. All he thinks about is that he wants to kill Ser Merryn…


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Dog, escort my lady to her chamber." That's what the King ordered, and that's what he shall do. They walk arm in arm, silent as a crypt. Joffrey looked surprised when Sandor offered Sansa his arm and she took it gladly. The King doesn't know that his lady is his dog's little bird.

When they reach their destination, Sansa opens the door, her body accidentally brushing against his. He tries to get the way she smells out of his head. However, when she looks at him, he begins to suspect that maybe nothing happened by accident. He thinks of pinching himself to make sure that he isn't dreaming. Her eyes are honest and warm and…Is that really desire in them?

"Could you come in, please?" She sounds weak, pleading, but there is also something in her voice saying that she won't take no for an answer.

He shouldn't, he knows it. The less time they spend together, the better. He doesn't do anything too nice for her, she doesn't realize how he truly feels. There are times that his broken, black heart is screaming for her, and he's afraid that she will listen to it, hear what it says for her, how it beats for her.

He finds himself inside her chamber without realizing how he got in. He shouldn't have done that. He should have left her alone no matter what his heart wanted. He is the Hound; he does not need a heart, but a sword.

"Thank you for being so nice to me today, ser", she says.

"I've told you, little bird, I'm no ser. And I wasn't being nice. You could barely walk –I would carry you or drag you or offer you my arm."

His words don't have the impact he wanted them to have. She doesn't look hurt, she doesn't look away, she doesn't ask him to leave. Her eyes are on him, looking, seeing, searching. She doesn't say a word. She just watches him. She is obviously looking for something in his grey eyes.

"I thought that a hound will never lie to you", she says after quite a while, the whisper of an ironic smile in her lips.

"What do you mean, girl?" he asks, trying to be neutral.

"You're lying. You _were_ nice to me. And I'm so glad! I need someone to be nice to me!"

He barely has any time to digest her words and deny being good to her. She runs to him with tears in her eyes. She throws herself to him, her arms around his body, her cheek pressed against his chest. She is shaking, and this time, he knows, it's not out of fear. She's crying. She's crying in his arms. The wise thing to do would be to push her away and leave. But he's not wise, he's a fool. He wraps his strong arms around her and strokes her back for just a little while.

"It's alright, little bird", he whispers.

She sobs. He doesn't know how long they've been like that. A few minutes? A few hours? An eternity? Her smell dazes him, her arms set him o fire, her tears break his heart, shatter it into smaller pieces. He doesn't care, though. For she is the only fire he wants. She is the only fire he has ever wanted.

She slowly looks up at him. Her eyes are red, but she is still so beautiful. His breeches feel tighter, but she doesn't seem to notice. She just looks at him. A little hesitantly, she stands on the tip of her toes and plants a soft kiss on his cheek. His _burnt_ cheek.

Before he knows what he is doing, he covers her mouth with his. She responds immediately, moving her soft lips against his. His tongue pleads for entrance, and she parts her lips for him. The kiss is deep and passionate. He is consuming her just like the fire consumed him years ago.

His lips trail lower, finding her pulse point. He weighs her breasts, and his thumbs play with her nipples through the fabric. She arches into him, moaning, and her nipples are hard very soon. He can't believe that he has that kind of power on her or that she wants this as much as he does.

Someone knocks on the door. One of Sansa's handmaids judging by the way she speaks her name.

Sandor stops and moves away from her. What has he done? Has he lost his wits? He can still taste her on his lips. He can still fell how her nipples hardened under his touch. It felt so good as they were doing all this, but it was wrong. Terribly wrong. He's been trying to avoid something like that, to prevent it from happening.

He looks at her. He finds no shame there. She is flushed, and she obviously wants more. She licks her lips as if she can still taste him there. When he sees that, he wants to grab her and kiss her breathless.

Instead, he leaves without a word, almost knocking the handmaid down.


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks everyone for your reviews, favs and follows! I am so happy! I love you all! I hope the new chapters won't disappoint you!**

Chapter 4

He doesn't talk to her for almost a week. He can't. Not after that night. He keeps thinking about it. Once he dreamed what could have happened if the handmaid hadn't interrupted them. At first the dream felt so good, but soon he realized that it was so wrong.

He looks at her for a moment as she asks to be excused. She looks sad and indifferent. Her eyes are cold, her voice weak and hollow. She is what she used to be once again. She doesn't care whether she lives or dies. She doesn't feel. She has given up again.

Is that his fault? he wonders. She was fighting when he was nice to her. She cared, she felt. It was almost as if he was mending her broken wings and she would fly soon. Fly away from all this pain and misery, away from Joffrey and the Lannisters, away from anyone who would try to hurt her.

And now she can't do that. He had picked up the pieces in order to fix her, but then he let them fall on the ground once again. Of course it is his fault! He is the only one she's ever trusted, and he turned his back to her. He left his little bird with its broken wings to die.

He enters her chamber without knocking. Her gown is unlaced. She gasps in surprise and puts her hands over her breasts so that the gown won't fall and reveal her body to him.

"Why did you kiss me back?" he asks. He didn't exactly have that in mind, but there he is, waiting for an answer to his question.

"Why did you kiss me?" she asks right back at him.

"I asked you first", he reminds her. He can't possibly answer her question. Especially if the kiss was just a mistake for her.

"You're nice to me", she says, "and I know that Joffrey never ordered you to do so. You take care of me, you protect me. I'm no longer afraid of you. You're a good man, I know it, I've seen it. I trust you. You're not a knight or a lord, you may not be beautiful, but I like you. I…I want you."

He doesn't say a word. He doesn't trust his voice right now. So he just grabs her and kisses her. She responds once again, but this time she doesn't surrender to him as easily and completely as before. Her tongue meets his and they fight for dominance. He wins of course, but he enjoyed it. This kiss turns him on more than their first one.

Her arms leave his body. He wants to grab them and put them back on him again, but then he realizes that she did that in order to let her gown fall. He breaks the kiss and looks at her, at the perfection in human form. He has seen her breasts before, when Joffrey had her stripped in front of the entire court. But that time he wanted it to stop. Now he's afraid that he won't be able to take his eyes off her. Her breast are neither too small nor too big; they're just perfect, with those pink nipples at their center. Her belly is flat. She is thin, but she has small curves that make her irresistible. Her most private area is still hidden to him, as she has kept her smallclothes on.

They kiss her again, this time exploring each other's body even farther. She tries to undress him with her hands –they are shaking a little- and he helps her. He wears too much, he realizes in that important moment, but then again, he is the King's sworn shield.

Before he knows it, he's naked before her. She's blushing, and that only makes her cuter. She looks at his throbbing manhood and she seems to be impressed. She bites her lower lip as she looks in his eyes again. She doesn't know what to do.

Their mouths never leave each other as he lies her on the bed. He gets on top of her, his eyes boring into hers. She wants this, he can see. She really does. She plants soft kisses on his throat, then sucks at his pulse point with dedication. He moans and strokes her cheek.

He lowers himself a little and starts kissing her chest. Her skin is soft and warm. His mouth closes over one nipple. He sucks until he is positively vibrating beneath him. As he hears her moans, he is tempted to bite her, but in the end he decides to be gentle.

Slowly, a little hesitantly, his heart in his throat, he removes her smallclothes. He is sure that she is blushing, but he doesn't look. He admires every piece of flesh that the woman beneath him offers him.

"Fuck, little bird", he sighs. "You're perfect!"

One finger trails rather low, finding her triangle. He presses against her clit, rough but not hurtful. He strokes her entrance. All those sweet sounds he extracts from her make him harder than stone. He wants her, and she is ready for him.

"This is going to hurt", he warns her.

"Joffrey said to me that he spent all this time learning how to hurt me when he takes me", she reveals. "Please…"

He needs to be inside her. Her pleading only makes that need stronger. She wants this. She wants _him_.

"I want you", she whispers.

He enters her with one powerful stroke. He wants to be over with this quickly, to break her maidenhead at once and make her feel it all in the beginning. She gasps, her head falls back. Her eyes widen, then they close shut. She's biting her lip so hard that he can see some blood. It hurts a lot for her. He's causing her pain as well. He hates that. He wishes it could be painless.

He almost withdraws and leaves when she opens her eyes and nods. He starts moving as gently as possible, and soon she begins to move with him in a dance older than sin. She whimpers almost at every contact they make, until she puts one hand on the back of his head, pulling him close to her, and they kiss. He moans inside her mouth, and she smiles against his lips.

Pleasure starts to mount as they keep moving. It continues for a mindless time. Sansa wraps her legs around him, allowing him to push deeper. It forces their release to rip through them like something possessed.

"Sandor!" she cries out.

"Sansa…" he curses her name back.

His thrusts grow frantic and erratic. He desperately seeks his own release. And then he is coming, with his eyes closed, and it is better than it has ever been. He is grunting and panting until he is spent, fatigued, boneless over her body. He withdraws and rolls t the side before collapsing on top of her, crushing her little body.

The King will be furious when he takes her for the first time and realizes that she has already given her maiden gift to someone else. They need to get rid of that sheet, which bears her blood, her sweet juices and his seed. He doesn't care about all that, though. Right now he's just trying to bring his breathing back to normal. How could something so wrong feel so good? Maybe it wasn't wrong after all.

She moves closer to him and rests her head on his muscular chest. His protective arms wrap themselves around her almost automatically. He smells her hair, breathing her in, and kisses the top of her head. He doesn't say a word. He doesn't think it's necessary. He has just _made love_ to her, and he's sure that she can hear his heart beating faster than normal.

"Do you really want me?" she asks.

"Yes, little bird, I want you", he confesses.

_I love you… _


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

When they are not alone, he is indifferent, even cold towards her. She looks like her heart is made of stone, like she has no emotions. The boy king is glad. He believes that he has broken her completely, beyond repair. He believes that no one at all cares about her.

He is a bigger fool than Sandor thought him to be.

Of course, they play their parts very well. No one can tell that they spend almost every night together, locked in their lovemaking embrace. No one can tell that almost every night she falls asleep in his arms. Sure, the boy king will know that she has given her maidenhood to someone else. But he will not know who she has given herself to or that she hasn't given up.

And now it's time for her to prove that there is wolf blood inside her. He goes to her, opens the door of her chamber so violently that it almost separates from its hinges. She gasps, but relaxes when she sees who it is. She shouldn't, though.

The way he looks at her makes her get off the bed and run to him. She is worried. Worried about him, when it's herself she should worry about.

"Sandor, what is it?" she asks, cupping his cheek.

"They're going to marry you to the Imp", he announces.

Her arm falls to her side as though something dead. Her blue eyes are begging him to tell her that this is a lie. He wishes he could, but then he would be lying to her. He can't. A hound will die for you, but it will never lie to you.

"The King is to marry Margaery Tyrell, so, according to Tywin Lannister, someone else must wed you and take your father's lands when your brother dies."

"Robb won't die!" she tells him crossly.

"Yeah, tell that to the Hand."

"They can't sell me like a common whore!"

Sandor sighs. The Lannisters shouldn't do that to her. And she is no common whore. She is a beautiful woman who deserves the best and always gets the worst. She is his little bird.

"They can and they will", he says. He strokes her cheek, and she closes her eyes. "I'm leaving."

Her eyes fly open, and she takes his big hand in hers. "What? When? Why?"

"I'm sick of this place and these people", he explains. "If you still want to live and don't want to wed the dwarf, come with me."

She looks surprised. "You'll take me with you"" she asks.

"Of course, stupid little bird. I'm leaving at midnight."

"They'll have our heads", she says. She's afraid. Every emotion has come back to her, but he's not so glad that fear has made its return as well.

"I won't let anyone harm you", he swears, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "I'll kill every fucking man who tries to hurt you."

She smiles at him, and the room brightens. She looks like an angel. _I love you…_She kisses him tenderly and looks about to cry. She is definitely not cold and heartless, too numb to feel now.

"Do you want to go home?" he asks.

The road will be long. The travel will be hard. But he has fixed her. He has put her pieces to their place and mended her. She wants to live again. She wants to get away from the boy she used to love.

Or, maybe, she is afraid again, he thinks. She is once again the person she used to be. That person used to be afraid. He used to scare her as well. She is probably afraid now. She won't go with him. She will say that she'll be safe at King's Landing.

"Yes", she replies.


End file.
